


A Bottle of Rum

by pentameter_and_pen



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 14:41:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1391482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pentameter_and_pen/pseuds/pentameter_and_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>CS. Emma gets drunk and confesses that she finds the captain really attractive. He can’t let it go the next morning. [Set after 3.12]</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bottle of Rum

Three days after they’ve returned to Storybrooke he finds her inside the White Rabbit, nursing a drink at the bar. From the looks of it, it is far from being her first of the night - her head rests on her left arm as her right one curls inward, still holding the glass. 

He catches the eye of the bartender as he sits down at the bar. At this point everyone from the Enchanted Forest knows of the pirate’s allegiance to the saviour so the young woman quickly walks over and leans in to whisper.

"That’s her fifth one. I cut her off a little while ago."

Hook nods in response and she gives him a flirtatious smile before walking away, leaving him to the task at hand. He turns to his blonde parter in crime and simply smiles. He’s felt her eyes on him since he first sat down.

"Hello Swan," He says, taking in her face. "Taking the night off?"

If her posture alone didn’t tell him how much tonight’s drinking has affected her, her face certain does. Something in her expression looks freer than usual – almost uninhibited. She studies his face before she answers.

"She likes you…" She says with a slight slur and a big smile on her face. "You should ask her out."

"Who is this ‘her’ you speak of?"

She raises her head enough to nod towards the brunette at the end of the bar. Luckily she doesn’t look over.

Looking Emma in the eye again Hook simply smirks at her implication.

"Why would I do that when I have you?"

He raises his eyebrow flirtatiously as he does so.

"Because she’s attractive… And you’re attractive… See what I’m saying here?"

He grins at her words. “I do. You find me attractive.” 

"I didn’t say that-" Seeing his eyebrow go up she changes tactics. "I mean, yes you’re attractive – you wear nothing but leather and you don’t seem to use any of your buttons."

 

Now both of Hook’s eyebrows are raised. This is the first time Emma Swan has ever deigned to comment on his appearance, much less his clothing. A part of him is concerned. He’s never seen her this talkative.

But before he can say anything, she reaches out and holds one of his buttons, her knuckles grazing his chest. The slight contact sends an electric shock throughout his body. It happens again and again, as she toys with the button. He brings his hand up and wraps it around her wrist holding it in place. That does little to qualm it. Though at least he’s holding her hand now.  

It’s quite dangerous for her to be playing with his clothing like that this late at night. More than that, it’s dangerous for her to be playing with his clothing when she’s this inebriated. He’d promised to win her heart using no trickery and he considers this well within the realm of what can be described as such. And Killian Jone does nothing if not play by the rules - even if they are rules he himself has set up.

But her actions have brought her close to his face as she’s now leaning towards him. She looks up into his eyes as she smiles.

"Why  _don’t_  you use your buttons?”

As soon as she opens her mouth he is hit with the smell of… rum?

He grins at the discovery, before firing back with a question of his own.

"When did you acquire a taste for rum, Swan?"

"In Neverland," she says, tipping her head to the side, her eyes suddenly heavy-lidded as they focus on his lips. "I acquired a taste for a lot of things on Neverland…"

With the combination of her words and the look she’s giving him even Hook has to swallow. Her breath on his lips reminds him just how close she still is.

Suddenly he hates this situation with every fibre of his being. If it were any other time and any other situation, he’d have kissed her already. But tonight, he knows it’s the wrong move. So he is the one who pulls away, getting off his stool.

"Come on Love, let’s get you home."

He reaches over and holds her arm as he guides her off her own perch.

"What?" she asks, in a drunken, annoyed tone. "I thought that ‘not a day would go by where you didn’t think of me’?"

She laughs disbelievingly and shakes her head. She then picks up her glass and downs the remaining contents of her drink.

It would be a lie to say it doesn’t hurt. But this is not the time to contest Emma Swan. So he just quietly guides her out of the bar doors.

As the outside air hits both of them, she yanks her arm out of his grasp and turns to face him. She stumbles slightly as her sense of balance tries to recalibrate itself. He stands there waiting, watching her with thoughtful eyes. His playful grin no longer on his face.

Looking back at him Emma regards his expression. The alcohol-induced fog in her mind parts for a moment and it becomes abundantly clear that this pirate did indeed keep his word. But the significance of that is more than she can handle right now. She wishes she had another drink. Instead she turns her criticism inwards.

"But what do I know right?" She says self-deprecatingly with a sarcastic snort. "I almost married a flying monkey."

She takes a step in the direction of her apartment and stumbles. He is by her side almost immediately. This time she doesn’t take her arm out of his hands. If anything, she leans slightly into him, clearly savouring the extra warmth his body radiates on this cold Maine night.

"Well Swan," he says softly into her ear. "Not every man who knocks on your door can be an attractive pirate… or a dashing rapscallion."

That elicits laughter from her.

Hook turns to her, surprised. In all their time together he has yet to hear that sound, let alone cause it. He can’t believe how musical it sounds – or how the smile that accompanies it seems to erase all her worries and making her seem almost carefree.

She doesn’t seem to notice that he’s staring at her. She just keeps nodding to herself, before turning to him and bringing her lips to his ears.

A shiver runs through him as her breath tickles his ears with each word.

"It’s true. You are a dashing rapscallion.”

"Why thank you  _Love_. I’ll be sure to remember that.” He responds.

"You better, ‘Love’…" she teases, flashing him a suggestive smile and moving closer to him.

The only thing keeping him from acting on his urges is how angry she would be the next morning. He knew when he was getting into this, that the ‘long haul’ means doing this on her terms. And unfortunately for him, anything triggered by alcohol takes that away from her. Even if it does reflect how she really feels about him.

The night slowly becomes the slowest or longest walk he’s ever been on.

But before long, they’re at Grannie’s and he’s escorting her up the stairs and to her door. He stops a step away, letting go of her so she can walk the short distance away on her own.

"See you tomorrow morning, Swan." 

"See you tomorrow morning, Hook."

She takes a step towards her door and opens it, taking a step inside. But at the last moment, she turns, leaning on it, the knob still in her hand.

"Oh and Killian?" She says with a smile. "Don’t bother with any buttons. I like the view."

With that she winks and slides into her apartment, shutting the door behind her.

CSCSCSCSCS

The next morning she finds him sitting in the diner, a full English breakfast on the table in front of him. She didn’t even know Grannie’s made this. But walking up to him she can’t help but agree that whatever’s on his plate smells divine. She’d get herself some too if they didn’t have to go right away. All that drinking from the previous night has left her with a dull headache and some kind of mental haze that dulling her normally sharp senses. 

“Hook,” she says approaching the table where they usually sit. “We have to go. There’s been another disappearance.”

“So I don’t even get a ‘good’ morning, Swan?” He asks, looking up at her with a smile. He leans towards her as he slides out of the booth. “Or is this how you greet all the men you find attractive?”

Emma crosses her arms and gives him a pointed look. “I was exaggerating when I said that. It was the alcohol talking it.”

His smile widens as he stands next to her, as usual waiting for her to take the lead. “I may not have your ‘superpower’  _Love_ , but even I know that’s a lie.”

She turns and walks towards the door as her cheeks begin to burn. At least if they get outside she can blame it on the cold.

As they walk towards the Beetle, she glances back – not that she needs to, a part of her always knows where he’s standing in relation to her – and sees him striding confidently, coat flapping in the wind and shirt… completely unbuttoned. She stops in her tracks and spins around.

“For crying out loud Hook, just button up!” She says, looking him in the eye, perfectly serious. “You’re going to catch a cold!”

 _And die_.

She doesn’t say it, but they both know she what she means to say, but neither of them want to address it. Not yet.

So Hook’s smile turns instantly flirtatious, his eyebrow quirking upward to match it. “Thought you enjoyed the view.”

She shakes her head in exasperation and takes a step towards him, her hands instantly finding the buttons and beginning to work on them. “Not when it means you might die.”

However she doesn’t look up at him throughout the process. He isn’t wrong. She does enjoy the view – and she suspects she said as much last night – but standing this close to him is definitely not a good idea. However she’d rather this than him getting sick in an attempt to flirt with her. At least she’s wearing gloves right now. She vaguely remembers what his chest had felt like under her hands last night and everything in her body wants her to recreate the sensation.

She takes a deep breath in, hoping the cool air will help clear her mind. Instead she’s hit with the familiar mix of sea salt and leather that she often associates with the man standing in front of her. She quickly swallows and takes a step back, unable to continue. Not all the buttons are done up, but at least now he’s less likely to fall sick. It doesn’t hurt that the she can still catch a glimpse of his chest when she looks at him – not that she’d ever tell him that. The last thing the man behind her needs is more praise for his good looks after what she told him last night.

They sit in the car and shut the door behind them. Emma winces, the sound aggravating her headache. She shakes her head to try and alleviate it. It doesn’t really help.

To make matters worse, she feels Hook’s gaze on her the entire time.

“Try this,” he says.

She turns towards him to see him reach into his coat and take out a brown paper bag, which he hands over to her. She takes it with a frown.

“I don’t think more rum’s the solution to this.”

“Just open the bag.”

She does, to reveal a bottle of coconut water. Her brow furrows and she turns to look up at him.

“It’s just the thing to help with your headache,” he says with a half smile. “I thought you may have ‘acquired’ a taste for it in Neverland.”

She looks away as he wiggles his eyebrows at her. She shakes her head, but nonetheless opens the bottle and begins to drink for it. A few minutes later the clouded sensation in her brain disappears. No doubt the rum-sipping pirate knows what he’s talking about. But given how much he’s been teasing her about comments last night she can’t let him know. She doesn’t need him to broaden his vocabulary of self-descriptors – even though she does agree that ‘dashing rapscallion’ does suit him. 

She screws the lid on the bottle and hands it back to him to hold, before turning back to the wheel and starting the car.

“Come on, we need to go find that flying monkey before it takes anyone else.”

“Aah yes. You might want to marry him.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N.: It was actually quite fun to write Emma a little drunk. I figure she has a high tolerance, which is why her shot count was a bit high. Also, given how much freer and softer she seems with Regina and Henry – and Hook – it felt right to have her hit on him so heavily. 
> 
> As usual, I’d love to hear thoughts, comments, questions or concerns! Once again anon, I hope you liked it! If you enjoyed this, check out my other stuff either on tumblr, or ff.net and now, AO3! Thanks for reading! Enjoy tonight’s episode!


End file.
